Is Fear Itself
by Lorelei Jane
Summary: What the others saw while under Kriea's thrall in A Match for the Mandalore.
1. Disciple

Author's note: I got this idea over the weekend, and wrote all four chapters fairly quickly. It's a lot darker than anything else I've written, and if it disturbs anyone, well, I'm sorry. But then, if it does, I guess I did my job. They all are experiencing their deepest fear, after all. This ties in to _A Match for the Mandalore_ and may not be understood fully if you haven't read that story. I didn't include Ladria, Mira, Jennet or Canderous in this because the first two were busy on Malachor V (although I expect they both experienced their own private hells during their removal from the Ebon Hawk), we saw Canderous' vision, and Jennet told us what she'd seen, albeit without great detail, in the afore-mentioned story.

I can't take a lot of credit for entirely understanding why, exactly, they saw what they did. I just wrote what they told me, that's all. I would very much be interested in any analysis a gentle reader may offer.

So let us take a stroll down the dark path, you and I...

Always, LJ

* * *

I was in the conclave, the ruins making jagged silhouettes against the sky. I couldn't remember how I'd gotten here. It must be some sort of trick, but my mind couldn't break free of it. I had studied, but not trained properly until recently. I was as green as any youngling, for all my learning.

The desolation saddened me, as it always did. There was something important I needed to find, but I couldn't remember what it was. I listened to the silence, and thought of the dead. They had stories, and it was my job to preserve them.

The wind made a hollow lonely sound as I wandered among the broken stone and metal. Small fires were burning all around me, and I thought I should try to put them out, before the grass caught and spread the flames. I headed to the well I knew was nearby, but it wasn't there. I stared at the spot stupidly, wondering where it could have gone.

_Wait, _I thought suddenly. _There's something wrong here. Where was I before? How did I get here?_

The answers were important, I knew. Yet I couldn't make my mind grasp anything; thoughts drained away like water through cupped hands.

Water. Fire. Yes, I must put the fires out; the library may burn. I tried to find the well again. My search took me all over the compound, but no water was to be found.

Why can't I _think?_

There was a little boy playing in the wreckage, and I rushed over, scolding.

"You there, youngling, can't you see it's dangerous here?" I shouted. He looked up, and smiled.

"There you are," he said serenely. "I can't say I'm impressed."

I stopped short in astonishment. "You know me?"

"As I know myself," was his cryptic answer. He was intently tapping away at a datapad in his hand, and expression of deep concentration on his face. I admired his dedication.

"What are you studying?" I asked, dropping companionably next to him on the grass. I noticed without surprise that a large circle around us was untouched by fire or rubble; wildflowers grew in the waving grass. It was quite lovely.

"Jedi stories," he said. "I'm going to be one."

"You were a Padawan here?" I asked with surprise. I didn't recognize him and an unworthy stab of jealousy pierced my heart.

"Oh no. I wanted to be." He looked up, and I sucked in my breath. I knew that face. But I couldn't remember from where. All at once his expression changed from serene to anger.

"You didn't try hard enough," he spat. "You let your chances go by, and now I'm here forever."

"But I am Jedi now," I protested, shocked by his ferocity. "What more do you want?"

"You're old now," he said coldly. "How far do you think they'll let you go? A Jedi that learned from books and old stories? What possible use will you be?"

"Stories are important," I said, and I felt my conviction return. "They preserve the past, help others find their path. We're all doomed to repeat the mistakes of history if we don't have a way to remember."

"But we do make the mistakes anyway. Nothing changes, just the names. The stories stay the same."

"Maybe. But without them, how can we learn?"

"By doing. _Living_." He looked at me with scorn. "When will you start?"

"I am doing, and living," I argued, feeling silly for trying to debate a ten-year-old. "I'm helping with something very important."

"And what is that?" the boy asked skeptically.

"I…" I stared, troubled and uneasy. "I don't know," I said finally.

"You don't remember. And you'll be forgotten. No stories of you. No one left to tell."

"I'm not important," I said dismissively. "The stories are. History matters. _People_ matter. Not me."

"Then you'll stay with me?" the boy's eyes were hopeful. "I've been lonely."

I wanted to. I understood his loneliness, and I wanted to take that away. But I had remembered something, and shook my head.

"I can't," I said regretfully. "I'm sorry. But keep studying. You'll be a Jedi one day."

"Promise?" he looked at me pleadingly. I smiled, and he smiled back, exactly the same. I touched his cheek, dimpled where mine was, but on a young face with impossibly old eyes.

"I promise," I said gently. "You'll be fine."

I walked away, and when I couldn't see the boy any more, I closed my eyes so I could go home.


	2. Bao Dur

They had caged me again, with real bars and locks. At least they hadn't ripped my arm off to be able to contain me with shields. I was grateful for that. But I was imprisoned, and helpless. I can't abide small places.

I rattled the bars of the cage, testing their strength. Solidly built, the durasteel was thicker than usual. Smart of them; I could rip out the regular kind with time. I scanned the two meter by two meter cell for any sign of weakness. None. I kept myself from roaring with frustration by chanting the Jedi Code under my breath. It didn't help much but it kept me from slamming my fists uselessly against the bars.

I tried to think of how I had gotten here. For that matter, where _was_ here? The last thing I knew for certain was preparing to crash on Malachor V. Then I woke up in a cage.

The room was bare stone walls, lit only by a few dim lights hanging from the ceiling. A table and a couple of stools were across from me. Nothing else.

Where were the others?

I heard a door open, and a Sith officer strode in, propelling a bound and bleeding woman before him. Visas. I roared with frustration, yanking on the bars. They didn't budge. Visas was turned away from me, her veil hiding what little I could see of her face. The Sith chained her to some manacles I hadn't noticed before that were attached to the wall.

"Now," the officer said with a sneer, "Maybe we'll get some answers. Where is the Exile?" he demanded of me, and I shook my head.

"I don't know," I shouted. "Leave her alone!"

"I'll give you the count of three, then this woman pays for your stubbornness." The man was tall, about Atton's height, and handsome if it weren't for the sneer. It's only in children's tales that the bad guys are always ugly.

_I think I'm going insane, _I thought calmly. _To think something like that now._

"One."

"I don't know!" I shouted. That it was true didn't matter.

"Two."

"Let her go," I pleaded. "Take me, let her go."

"Three." As if he were doing something as mundane as brushing crumbs off his uniform, he shot Visas between the eyes with his blaster. I roared with pain and anger, slamming against the cage with all my strength. The bars didn't budge.

Without speaking, the officer unchained Visas, tossed her body aside as if it were garbage, and left. I tried desperately to pull the bars apart enough to wiggle free, but they wouldn't move. Abandoning that effort, I tried to touch the hand of my dead shipmate. She was just out of reach. I had scanned for her aura and knew she was dead; no healing from me would bring her back.

The door opened, and I drew back into my cage. Two Sith now, dragging an unconscious Disciple between them. They chained him, and tossed a bucket of water over him so he would be awake for his death.

"One."

I begged them to let him go, screaming I knew nothing.

"Two."

I bargained, groveled, pleaded.

"Three."

Disciple's body joined Visa's.

Jennet and Mira were brought in together, dragged in with two guards each. Canderous followed. Then they brought in Atton.

His dark eyes glittered at me above a broken bloody mouth. "You let all of them die," he spat, and I hung my head in shame.

"But I don't know," I tried to say, but stopped. Even if I did, I wouldn't have told them.

"Tell them," he said grimly. "They'll find her anyway."

"No," I whispered.

They tortured Atton to death in front of me, laughing and taunting me as they did. I crawled to the furthest corner of my cage and hid my face from it as best I could. I felt him die, and cried for the first time since the war. They prodded me with stun sticks until I looked at Atton's dead face. I did, but not because they had tortured me. Because I wanted to remember my failure.

They left me for a time, my dead friends for company. I stared at all the faces of these people I cared for, some I loved, and howled my grief. I vowed revenge, and didn't care that Jedi were supposed to be above it.

A nameless time later, the door opened again, and numbly, I saw them drag Ladria into the room. They had drugged her, it was obvious, but I knew that it wouldn't last long. I had suspected her healing ability before Jennet joined us, and hoped she flushed out the drug soon enough to escape. But my hope died as they bound her not to the wall like the others, but spread eagle on the steel table, sturdy restraints even I could not have broken easily.

"Iridonian scum," the officer in charge said conversationally. "You dare think yourself equal to humans? Even this Jedi trash is above you."

He removed a dagger from his belt and slowly sliced through most of Ladria's clothing. Now I wished that she didn't come out of her drug-induced haze; what was going to happen I didn't want her to feel. But her beautiful green eyes opened, aware and sane, and she locked eyes with me as the Sith defiled her. He turned her over to his guards when he was done, and her eyes never left mine. By the time they were through, I was praying they would kill her.

"Bao'uhr Dur'hcsk," she whispered, just before the dagger fell. "I am ready now."

I closed my eyes and felt my soul rip to pieces. The savagery of my people rose up in me, and I rose up, ripping the door of the cage off like it was paper. As I felt myself give in to the mindless violence of my race that had earned the fear of even the Mandalorians, I heard her voice again.

_No, my most faithful and truest friend, _I heard in my mind. _This is not you. This is not real. You are needed, there is work to be done. This is only a nightmare._

_What is real? _I answered, feeling the power of rage, and wanting to grasp it.

_Love is real. Trust is real. The Force is real. _You _are real. These are but shadows. Come back. I need you to come back, and find me._

With a painful wrench, I remembered Kriea, and the threat of Dark Jedi mind trick. I felt my rage ebb, and Truth come flooding in. Sanity returned, and I breathed deeply.

But before I left the nightmare, I looked at my General's face, to remember.


	3. Atton

I felt the darkness around me, alive and watchful, with teeth that gouged and tore and clawed me back to that place I had tried to leave forever. I knew it would come back for me some day. I knew that no matter what I had done in penance and shame, regret or atonement, it would some day be back, and take me. I knew I could never really be worthy to walk in the light. I knew it was time for reckoning.

I knew I didn't want to open my eyes.

It was safer, not seeing. But I had never been one to play it safe. I opened my eyes and blinked. I recognized this room. I had been in it often, and the familiar scent of pain and death invaded my senses. There was fear, too, a bitter metallic odor not unlike blood, but with an underlying aroma of sweat and tears. Jedi had died in this room, and their fear had been the sweetest of all.

Kriea had brought me here, and somehow I had known she would do so. I didn't want to come back, to be that killer I was, but I felt a part of me awaken that I had thought long dead. The beast raised its head, breathed deep, and smiled with red eyes and razor mouth. The hunt was over; it wanted to devour its prey.

But it liked to play with its food.

There was a woman, strapped to a gurney in the middle of the room. A single light source illuminated her pale features. Even exhausted and in pain, she was beautiful. They had liked to send me after female Jedi; my master took twisted pleasure in my reports of dark seduction and betrayal. This one was strong, and it had taken all my skill to bring her to this place. She had not been wooed easily. Once, that would have heightened my pleasure in her humiliation.

I couldn't remember her name.

She was all but nude, and I recalled the hours of pain and anguish I had put her through. Rape was a harsh word, and I hadn't shied away from it. But I wasn't the brutal rutting beast so many of my brethren were. I preferred to take it slow, bring them to unwilling arousal, allowing me to savor the full mockery of the act of love they thought they had experienced with me before I showed them my true face. I wanted them to want me, even knowing my darkness, and hate that I had made their bodies ache for my touch.

I had been very good at my job.

The woman opened her eyes and looked at me. I was standing so close I could feel her breath on my skin, see every bruise, hear the slightest change in her breathing. I had no recollection of having approached. Her eyes were a golden green, bright and alive and unbeaten. And kind. She didn't hate me, and I wanted to kill her for it.

"Atton," she said in a whisper. She held my gaze, her will stronger than any I've seen, and forgiving beyond reason. I couldn't look away, although I fought that stare with everything in me. I wanted to hit her, scream at her, slit her throat, anything to make her hate me and stop looking at me like that. I couldn't move, and the beast in me roared in frustration.

"I've seen who you really are," she said, her voice quiet but strong. "You don't belong here."

"Oh but I do," I answered easily. "I've always wanted to come back."

"No you didn't," she countered. "Even when you were part of this darkness, you didn't want it. Not really. You were lost. You found your way back. This isn't real."

"Don't." I said harshly.

"Don't what?" she asked, her eyes boring in to mine.

"Forgive me."

"But I do." She nodded at something behind me, and I turned. "And they do too."

Jedi filled the room, mostly women, a few men, all races and ages. They stared at me, some smiling, some grave, but all with expressions of peace and forgiveness. I snarled and drew my 'saber, igniting it with a savage surge of black power. The blade was blood red and shone bright.

The crowd spoke, voices overlapping. Mad with rage, I sliced down each of the Jedi, trying to extinguish their words.

"Atton."

"I forgive you."

"You don't belong here."

"Come back to the light."

"You are a soldier of the light."

"Jedi born."

"I forgive you." "Come back." "This is not your true self." "I forgive you." "This isn't real, you are forgiven, come back, comebackcomebackalliswellyouareforgiven…."

I slashed my way through the faces, screaming they were fools, I was proving my darkness, how could they not see what I really was? But even as they fell, they smiled, and their last breath was forgiveness.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY, AND I DON'T WANT FORGIVENESS!" I bellowed as I cut the last one down. She was human, and looked like Mira.

"You don't always get what you want," she said as she died.

I threw the red 'saber away, stumbled to a corner, and vomited.

"Atton."

I looked up, and the woman was standing in front of me, freed from the table. The tattered remains of her Jedi robe hung in rags around her slender form. She shrugged them away, and stood, naked and glorious and utterly beautiful. She reached a hand to me, and I shrank away. He smile lit the dim room like a lamp.

"Take my hand," she ordered, and unwillingly I did. At her touch, the beast in me roared and struggled and tried to run. I felt it inside, seeking escape, and my body shook with its rage. It slammed against its invisible cage inside me, and when it broke free, I fell to my knees. My eyes closed in agony. The woman kept her grip on my hand, squeezing it in reassurance.

"Look," she said, and I opened my eyes.

The beast was alive, and no longer inside me. It glared at me, impossibly long sharp teeth bared. It was gathering itself to spring on me. I made no move, wanting it to rip and feed and devour me, to end this pain.

But she looked at me again, and I found another 'saber in my hand, its blade blue and the light pure. I brought it up as the beast went for my throat. I fought it off, and with a last blast of foul breath and a weak roar it died. I stared at its body, shaking.

"You see?" The woman's voice was gentle.

"I see," I answered, and fell to my knees, sobbing. She held me as I cried, and soothed me, wiping away my tears.

"You did not want forgiveness, because you thought you still had the beast within you. You always will; we all do. But it can be silenced. Why do you fear forgiveness?"

"Because I don't deserve it," I said.

"Because you cannot forgive yourself."

"No," I said brokenly.

"You will, in time. I have seen this. But you will always fight the beast within. As Jedi, we all do."

"But what if it wins?" I whispered.

She was clothed again, all in white and air and light, her long dark hair shining down her back, smiling. She touched my brow gently, and kissed it.

"Not you. Not now. It cannot win, unless you let it. Even here, you bested the beast." She raised me to my feet, imperious as a queen. "You must go now. There is work to be done."

I heard the voice of a brother then, and turned to follow its sound. I turned back to thank her but she was gone.

I remember her name now.

Rowena.


	4. Visas

The Ravager was a warship steeped in evil, but the personal cabins were surprisingly comfortable. I was in my meditation room, striving for the serenity that was the bane of my Master. He had tried every dark method at his disposal to rid me of what he saw as Jedi weakness. The best he could do was bring me to a calm coldness that even he could not match. I took satisfaction in that; I was obedient, but not broken.

Something told me that this was wrong. I tried to follow the thought to its source but it darted away, slipping through my awareness like fish through water. Shrugging, I concentrated on my meditations, letting the Force fill me with its glory.

The door slid open, and I rose to my feet. My Master strode in, his tall form tense with agitation. I bowed in respect, and waited.

"I have an assignment for you," he said without returning my bow.

"As you command, Master," I answered calmly.

"I have found the Exile," his voice rasped. "You must go, and bring her to me. If you cannot, kill her."

"I hear and obey," I bowed out of the room.

On Darth Nihilous' instructions, I found the Ebon Hawk and lay in wait for the Exile. I had heard much of her, and wondered if she was as strong as my Master says. I had never seen him frightened, and he was not when he spoke of her. But that was the closest emotion I could name. I briefly wondered if he had at last tired of my stubbornness and had sent me to my death. I did not think so, but my Sight does not always see true when it comes to myself.

At last, The Exile entered her ship, and I attacked. I marveled at her skill, and redoubled my efforts. I was not a trained assassin, but I knew that I could best most that I fought against. This one was strong in the Force, and I had only the brief moment of surprise to my advantage.

To my utter shock, she did not kill me, even when she should have. She offered me mercy, and a chance to turn away from my Master. I tried to fight it, but awed by her power and strength of forgiveness, I accepted.

My life, for hers.

I vowed to stay with her, and help mend the rip in the Force. The journey was long and arduous, and I felt the Light rekindle things I had thought dead in me. I gloried in redemption, and tried to temper that by being humble in the face of her greatness.

And now, we were here on Malachor V, and my mentor was missing. I stumbled through the uneven ground and fought off twisted monsters that should never have lived. She was out there, and I would find her. I was distressed that I could not See here.

I finally reached a building, and entered its still darkness. I recognized it as an academy for the Dark Side, and shivered as the power of it tried to take me. Steeling my will, I made my way through the deserted corridors.

At the very center of this place of evil, I found Kriea, calmly waiting for me. I approached with caution, scanning for Ladria.

"So little one, you have found me," the Sith Lord actually smiled. "It is time to stop your pretense of Jedi morality and come home."

"Where is Ladria?" I demanded, light saber at the ready.

"Here," she said, a smile of triumph on her face. "She has at last realized her potential, and joined me."

"You lie," I said softly.

"Oh no," she answered. "She knows now what she is, and embraces it."

"She is a servant of the Light," I said fiercely. "She would not fall for _you_!"

"See for yourself," Darth Layra swept her hand, and Ladria came in.

She was clothed in the robe of a Dark Jedi master, her red hair glowing against the blackness. Her eyes, once a beautiful emerald green, were dark now and glittered in the dim light.

"No," I breathed. "Not you. You, who taught me the ways of the Light, who brought me back to the Order. This cannot be! How did you corrupt her?" I spun toward Layra, my voice hard, eyes angry.

"Grow up, little one," Ladria said, her honey and steel voice deceptively sweet. "I was born to the darkness. Darth Layra only showed me the weakness of the Jedi. There are no limitations on the Dark Side."

"It is not too late, Ladria," I pleaded. "You taught me that. This is madness."

"Not madness," she answered. "It is the only sane path there is. Why would I want to confine my talent to an outmoded ideal?"

"Outmoded. You blaspheme against the Force. I know the lure of the easy path, as do you. You must not give in."

"It is not easy; nothing of worth ever is. But it does not restrict me to a set of rules enforced by frightened old men who are too cowardly to fully grasp the power they think they command. The Jedi are all but gone, the Dark Side has won anyway. I am grateful my Master has led me back home," she said with a gracious nod to Layra.

"I cannot let you do this," I warned.

"You bore me," Ladria said caustically. "Join us, and come home."

"Never," I spat.

"I'm sorry to hear you say that," Ladria said with a regretful frown, and ignited her 'saber.

I met her now red blade with my own, and found myself at a disadvantage almost immediately. She was an excellent 'saber wielder, and I fought to simply stay alive. We circled the room, and after what seemed like a year, she managed to disarm me. I stood, eyes blazing, and glared at Master and Apprentice.

"Not to sound too cliché," Ladria said with a smile, "but join us…or die."

"Kill me then," I said with absolute sincerity.

"Pity," she said, and just as the blade was about to strike, I heard a voice.

"Visas."

I looked around, confused. I knew that voice. Another joined it.

"Visas, come back."

"Who are you?" I called, oblivious to the blade about to strike me down. I looked wildly about.

"It's only a dream, a nightmare. Come back; we want to help you."

"Fight it, Seer, you're stronger than this. Fight!"

"I can't find you!" I shouted in despair, and bolted past Kriea and Ladria, searching for the voices. I knew who they were, but I couldn't remember their names. Something was trying to escape my memory, something important.

"Follow our voices," the male said urgently. "You can find us that way."

"Let us help you," came the female. "Come back, it's only a trick, it's not real."

"Not real," I whispered, stopping my mad flight. "Not real."

I was suddenly relieved, and knew that this, my greatest fear, was the lie I had declared it. Ladria would never fall to the dark side again, and I would not ever have to right that wrong. Kriea had trapped me in my own mind, and I had fallen for it. I resisted the surge of anger I felt at the thought, and concentrated on finding my friends.

Disciple. Jennet. I knew their names now, and I closed my eyes tight to block out this world of my own creation, born of my fears. I felt myself still, and my familiar calm return. I opened my eyes.

I was being held firmly by Canderous, unable to move. Disciple and Jennet were hovering above me, worried looks on their faces.

"Do you want to talk about it? Are you okay?" Jennet asked, concern making her voice a little higher than usual. She touched my arm gently, and I tried reassure her.

"Not right now, no. And yes, thank you, I'm fine." I looked around at Canderous, who hastily let me go, a faint flush on his craggy face. I smiled shakily at him as I stood.

"Thank you," I said, understanding why he had held me down. I felt scratches on my arms and one on my face, and knew they had been self-inflicted.

"No problem," He answered gravely.

I watched the three of them head toward the common room. I needed a moment to gather myself before I followed. I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, trying to banish the memory of Kriea's mind trick. Although my Seer talent told me that Ladria would not fall, and Mira would find her, I knew much of what I had seen in the nightmare was real. My sisters had a hard road ahead, and I could not help or follow. I loathed being helpless, and again resisted the urge to curse my visions.

I repeated the Jedi Code to myself, the mantra that never fails to center me. Finding calm again, I joined my friends in the common room.


End file.
